


Australia

by Miniatures



Series: Souls [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gabriel is too down on himself, Gen, God knows exactly what's going on, Implied Sabriel, Light Angst, Lucifer is a Little Shit, M/M, Souls, no actual Sabriel but the implication is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2554130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/pseuds/Miniatures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The archangels are each tasked with making a human soul. Gabriel just wants his to be good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Australia

> _He could not, Himself, make a second self_
> 
> _To be His mate; as well have made Himself;_
> 
> _He would not make what he mislikes or slights,_
> 
> _An eyesore to Him, or not worth His pains:_
> 
> _But did, in envy, listlessness or sport,_
> 
> _Make what Himself would fain, in a manner, be—_
> 
> _Weaker in most points, stronger in a few,_
> 
> _Worthy, and yet mere playthings all the while,_
> 
> _Things He admires and mocks too,—that is it._
> 
> _-_ Robert Browning

 

Gabriel didn’t know whose soul it was that he was making, or for what purpose. Father had given each of His firstborn sons a creative spark, told them to find an empty corner of Heaven and mould what they’d received into a _soul,_ a divine light for a creature not yet born. He was making new things, Father said, and He needed something bright to put inside them.

The youngest archangel found a hideaway and passed his spark between his hands, smirking at the fact that he was juggling a piece of Creation like it meant nothing. He was honoured, of course, that his Father had entrusted him with such an important task—He’d said that the four archangels’ souls would be incredibly important in a few eons. That they’d inhabit the bodies of countless creatures before settling, eventually, in a quartet that would end Father’s new Earth.

“Full circle,” He’d said, and smiled as well as a God could smile.

So yes, Gabriel was honoured, but he was also nervous. What if he ruined his soul? Father knew he wasn’t like his brothers; he had neither Michael’s power, nor Raphael’s intelligence, nor Lucifer’s charms. He paled before them, dull gold against their dazzling light, with nothing but a sense of humour to his name. He stumbled in Lucifer’s footsteps, shared his brother’s love of artful chaos and subtlety, but could never match him. Never even come close.

The only things he’d ever created had been laughed at, handwaved away, and scheduled to evolve in Australia. Raphael said Australia was where their Father was putting the spare parts.

Gabriel glared at the spark in his hand. This was going to be important. This couldn’t be hidden away. He had to do this right.

The archangels had gathered together before dispersing to make their souls. Michael said his would be a devoted soldier for their Father. Raphael said his would be a guardian, unfailingly loyal to those who do God’s true work. Lucifer claimed that his would be a holy servant, obedient, and faithful, but there was a glint in his eye that Gabriel recognized all too well, and he knew Luci had other plans.

Gabriel hadn’t known what he wanted to make. _Who_ he wanted to make. But when his brothers turned their gazes upon him he blurted out a single word—

“Good.”

What in the name of their Father did that even mean?

Were his brothers good? Was Creation good? Was God? Was he? Certainly not he. Gabriel balked in the face of danger and conflict—his humour was blunt and cruel—he was lacking where his brothers excelled—and he was his Father’s least favourite. Last picked for missions, last told about everything. What did he have to offer, other than botched creations and crude jokes and a nasty habit of running away? He was Australia—nothing but spare parts.

“Good” would have to be something else.

Gabriel smiled, sad and thin, and began to mould his spark.

When he was finished, he and his brothers found their Father and presented their souls. Michael’s and Raphael’s were as they had said, and though Lucifer maintained that his was too, Gabriel—and surely God—could see the streaks of _rebellious_ and _brash_ woven in. That soul would be a firestarter sure as day.

Then Gabriel brought forth his creation.

This soul would be brave where Gabriel wasn’t, kind where he wasn’t, loyal and loving and smart where he wasn’t. This soul would be quietly funny, and endlessly patient, and perhaps a little fierce, a little wild. Above all, this soul would be _strong._ Everything Gabriel couldn’t be, everything he wished he was, everything he thought would make the world a better place before it ended.

He found himself wishing, as he handed the soul to his Father, that he could be allowed to meet the bodies that his creation would wear. That he could have a chance to talk to them, to tease them, to envy them. Hate them a little. Love them a little. He wanted to know the person his soul would be when it brought an end to everything—it would be old by then, and tempered by its time on Earth. Maybe by then Gabriel would be tempered too.

God looked at the youngest of His eldest sons, and smiled as well as He could smile.

“It’ll be a man then,” He told Gabriel, “and his name will be Sam.”

God said nothing more about the four souls, and He would say nothing more for many millennia to come, no matter how His children begged. To Gabriel alone He gave that gift—knowledge of what would ostensibly be his soul’s final name. Gabriel carried that name like a talisman, a treasure, something to roll on his tongue when he was miserable. _Sam. SamSamSam._

He may have filled Australia. But he also made Sam.

And Sam was good.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote at the beginning is from Browning's "Caliban Upon Setebos", which I was reading for a class before I was so RUDELY INTERRUPTED by inspiration. 
> 
> Also, if it wasn't clear, Lucifer made Dean's soul, Raphael made Bobby's, and Michael made Jimmy Novak's. Two brothers, an old drunk, and a fallen angel indeed.


End file.
